Insomnia
by Mtwapa
Summary: Spoilers for 2x08. Focuses on the main characters after Mr. Dowland's debacle with Ms.Lane...Carries on with the theme of Mr.Dowland's insomnia.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Based on the latest episode of series 2. Insomnia wreaks some degree of havoc with all the members involved in the post-office incident. Fic with POVs from James Dowland, Dorcas Lane, Celestia Brice-Coulson, Laura Timmins and Thomas Brown with a happy ending...perhaps...Feedback is always appreciated. Thank-you to all those who read the last one. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Hope y'all like this one just as much.

INSOMNIA: James Dowland

He paced up and down in the darkness of his room. The light from the full harvest moon which poured burnished silver through his window was light enough. He had tried to shut it out with the curtains but it proved futile. Any attempts of sleep after that were worse than futile.

He paced…trying to avoid the pool of moonlight. He did not want something so pure touching his befouled self. The moonlight so pure, wantonly reminding him of everything Dorcas was in his eyes and everything he was not in her eyes. Nevertheless, he was lured to it, no measure of whisky (he had already tried that) or Japanese pillow would hypnotise him to sleep tonight, and yet it was sleep that he most craved.

He wanted this god-awful week to finally come to an end; to convince himself that everything was naught but a dream.

Nothing but the dull ache of his heart and the still figure visible in the distant window stopped him from believing it was all a fiendish nightmare.

He paused again at the window and looked out at the clock as it chimed 3 in the morning. The figure at the window was still there, silhouetted by the faint glow of a now-dying candle. He wondered if she had fallen asleep where she had sat for several hours, just as he had paced for several hours now.

He stopped and continued to stare from the safety of his dark room, the memories of the past two days filled his mind; the feeling of pure bliss and then pure heartbreak flooding his breast. Through now-closed eyes he saw her happy face when he asked her to be his. He remembered the number of times she had blinked in disbelief when he had asked and the surprising shy smile that had appeared at the corner of her mouth. Through closed eyes, he saw the hurt in her eyes when he admitted all. His body shook, remembering what it felt like to have her in his arms, to be that close to slipping the ring on her finger and making her his.

Open eyes stared at the figure he had come to know so well, his lips now twitching in memory of the sweetness he had tasted in her kiss – her one and only kiss to him. His breath froze in his chest at the intensity of missing her.

His hands trembled in memory of her hands enclosed in his. He almost smiled at the memory of brushing fingers together under the pages of the accounts books while Thomas Brown kept a watchful eye on them…but the smile never appeared. The memory did nothing but make him keel over with pain.

What galled him the most was that he never got the chance to apologise: To say he was sorry. The words had failed to come out. All that had come out was a need to explain himself, to prove to her that he was willing to give up everything to be with her. How could he have forgotten to start with a simple apology? Dull pain flowed up his arm as his fist collided with the wall.

He was a damned fool and this night would bring no rest. He tore his eyes away from the one person that would bring him rest and walked out of the room.


	2. Celestia BriceCoulson

Author's Note: Hey Everyone, thank you for all the lovely reviews! They really make my day! So here we go with chapter 2. As always, feedback is always appreciated. Was anyone disturbed by Dorcas' rapid change in attitude at poor James in the last episode. The poor man! This is will probably be my last update for a while.

Disclaimer:I realise I didn't put this up before - oops! Well this adaptation belongs to the BBC! and the story belongs to Flora Thompson.

Celestia Brice-Coulson

Her bed was cold. Celestia Brice-Coulson could not sleep. Her return had made London seem even more dreary and miserable than when James had first left for Candleford. Her body shivered from the cold. Her bed was colder than it had been for months.

"_It has ended between us…"_ No! he had made that choice without her say. Unlike his attachment with Miss Lane, this was not mutual. He had forced her to walk away. While in Candleford, his correspondence with her, had become more professional, more distant. The change in tone had been apparent. Her visit to Candleford had really been all about her, needing him, wanting him and his wild passions.

She shuddered in her bed at the memories of the day. She turned around only to see the leather binder containing his certificates of stock. She had yet to sign them.

A postmistress sweep James Dowland off his feet? Now there is something that could have London talking for the rest of the social season. The handsome Mr. Dowland had been paid the attentions of many a fine gentlemen's daughter. Yet, she had never been worried because she saw the flirtations for what they were…flirtations to make her jealous - to transfigure his bout of insomnia into a bout of hell-born passion. His eyes, had always been for her.

She had never understood why he had wanted to open a hotel in an obscure place like Candleford. He had given her the most solid reasons for starting up a hotel in the soon-to-be bustling town; to take the monopoly and establish themselves and then spread out through Oxfordshire. But, she had always suspected that there was more: Some link he held with the place that she did not know. His fervent energy in drawing up the plans for the hotel had given him more sleepless nights than necessary for such an undertaking.

His affections, no - love, she corrected for Dorcas Lane is what had him on edge during her visit. The nervous glint she had seen in his eye as he introduced them to each other was now glaringly apparent. His awkward gestures in front of the Sisters Pratt... James Dowland was many things, but he was not awkward, confidence exuded like an eternal spring. When he had all but begged her to take lunch in her room, had made worried her about his lack of sleep he was getting. Mentally, she had already been planning a midnight rendezvous in his chambers.

Her body spasmed at the thought of a midnight rendezvous with the dashing James Dowland. She shivered now for a different reason altogether as she remembered, not the cold but the feel of his lips against her hand as she had entered the hotel, his strong arm around her waist as he guided her discreetly through the hotel. She remembered his hot mouth against her skin and her hands clutched at the sheets as a low moan escaped her lips and salty tears began to seep from her eyes.

His stay in Candleford had made James foolish and naïve. He should have most certainly known that hell hath no fury like that of a woman scorned. Did he really think that she would give him up without a fight! That a 'Thank-you," would suffice, after all they had been through? The tough and ruthless James Dowland, lately of London, had been tamed by Candleford.

The passion of his declaration had sealed their fate. She could not bear to keep him bound in a state that would lead to them hating. She loved him too much to watch him waste away his deep fires on hate…on hate, instead of her.

Yes, his passion had been enough. To give up everything he had striven for, was not an easy sacrifice for Mr. James Dowland. And then the silly woman had rejected his offer of marriage. What age were these country-folk still living in? For truly, he had done nothing wrong other than keep a widow happy. Dorcas Lane was a fool. No, she reminded herself, Dorcas Lane is a happy and lucky fool because she will always have James' heart.

But in the end, when the game was up, she would survive. Survive or fail. In that regard she and James were suited to each other - failure was never an option. Survival was all that mattered and if that meant leaving a shattered heart behind, then so be it.

In a street, not too far away, Big Ben chimes the witching hour...Tomorrow, she would need to purchase a new bed.


	3. Thomas Brown

Author's Note: Thomas shares his thoughts with Miss Lane. I will definitely be updating and completing this ficlet soon. Thanks for reading. Reviews as always are much appreciated.

Thomas Brown

He knocked gently on the worn wooden door.

'Come in.' Came the gentle reply.

He entered the room, a little fearful of how his actions would be perceived by any inquisitive neighbors; particularly the dressmakers next door. "I thought you might like some of this." He held up a snifter of brandy.

"Thomas. It is very kind of you."

He put the glass down. He harrumphed a little, unsure of how to begin. There was an awkward silence for some seconds while Dorcas waited for him to say what he clearly was bursting to tell her.

"Ma'am you know that I would not willingly interfere, but I must tell you that I feel you have made the wrong decision here –"

"Thomas Brown feels?" she asked sharply.

Thomas blushed, his gaze falling to his feet. He began again, "You may mock me Miss Lane but I have never seen love expressed so fervently by a suitor ma'am. He truly loves you Miss Lane. He looked like death himself when you were lying sick in your bed. He's the one who rode to get Queenie. He bore a burden that was not his to bear Ma'am."

"Thomas! I have heard quite enough of Mr Dowland's heroics." She sat down in the chair at the window and took a sip of brandy to fortify herself.

"I hope you find it in yourself to forgive him, Miss Lane. A man has never suffered so much. He has changed remarkably in such a short span of time to the detriment of us all. Miss Lane, remember that the Lord always knows what's best."

"Then perhaps Thomas Brown, that is why he is making me feel what I feel." She replied curtly.

He stepped towards the door, taken aback by the ferocity of her tone. He had never, in all his time at the post office, heard her speak this way.

"I will pray then Ma'am." He replied stoically as if that was the answer to all of life's miseries.

Dorcas gave a small smile and took another sip of brandy. "I'm sorry Thomas. Thank-you for your concern, but I assure you, you have no reason to be worried. I know what is best."

Thomas became awkward again, unsure of how to end this unusual conversation. He shuffled his feet, his hand on the door. "Goodnight then Miss Lane."

"Goodnight Thomas." She replied sadly.


	4. Laura Timmins

Author's Note: This is the penultimate chapter. The next chapter will focus on Dorcas' thoughts. Enjoy and thank-you for reading.

Laura Timmins

She tossed in her bed, unable to sleep. She swayed from anger to heartache as she thought about the last couple of days. The tears still trickled but she no longer noticed them. She ached for Fisher's love; his sweet kisses and maturity, his small peculiarities that she had come to adore. She would give anything to be with him again, even if it was for just a day. And that was when the anger welled up.

Anger at Fisher for leaving her! Anger at Miss Lane for giving up a man who was so in love with her that he was willing to change just to stay with her forever. Why couldn't Fisher be like Mr JD? Why was Miss Lane being so foolish? It was so clear that they both loved each other and yet Mr Dowland was rejected. For what? To maintain her independent image? Why couldn't Miss Lane see that happiness lay in love and that love lay in the arms of Mr Dowland. Why was she being so, so, so blind!?

Why did she keep self-inflicting this hurt and loneliness on herself? It made no sense! They could have made each other so happy, so, so happy…just like she and Fisher could have made each other so, so happy, she reflected in sadness. She knew Miss Lane had had her fair share of dark moments when it came to love but why wasn't she taking her chance now? Why?

She suddenly felt a wave of shame sweep as she remembered how she had come so close to shaking Miss Lane after Minnie told her that Mr JD's proposal had been rejected.

The silence of the small bedroom became stifling. She heard a door close softly and a creak on the stairs. Unable to contain herself, she got out of bed. She went out onto the landing to find it in darkness. She watched a candle move lower down into the house. She desperately wanted company. However seeking out the older woman's company would not be ideal tonight. Miss Lane was normally so soothing for her conscience but not tonight. Tonight, they were both in turmoil with neither being able to offer the other solace. She remained standing in the darkness of the landing undecided about whether she should try to console her mentor or to leave her in peace.

Perhaps not… she turned back into her room.

As she settled down under her covers again, she realized in her heart of hearts that she could not bear to have the situation different. Her suffering would have been made worse, much worse, if she had Miss Lane's happiness for comparison to her bleak life without Fisher.

It was selfish of her, she knew…but she was too heartbroken over loves that could have been to chastise her empty conscience. If only sleep would come, so that she could forget…forget it all for just one night.


	5. Dorcas Lane

Author's Note: In the spirit of the upcoming premiere, I thought I'd finish this one off, finally! Happy Reading.

Disclaimer: LRTC belongs to the wonderful Flora Thompson and the LRTC adaptation to the wonderful BBC.

Dorcas Lane

Dorcas sat in the chair by the small fireplace trying to warm herself against the chill that she knew no fire could possibly remove. The iciness seemed to emanate from the centre of her being; her heart, and ripple outwards.

Her gaze fell to the dress on the armchair at the far side of the room. A small sob escaped and her heart constricted with another spasm. Her mother's beautiful wedding gown that had been so carefully restored by the sisters Pratt after Minnie wrecked it. The gown that she had taken out to try on, her head filled with giddy girly thoughts after he proposed. And now she saw it all as it truly was; a hapless daydream. She remembered the first time she had laid eyes on James, she had had the dress pinned against herself in foolish fancy. Her heart wrenched again at the thought of James.

Suddenly stifled, she stood up quickly and crept down the stairs as quietly as she could. She paused on the last step and sank down onto it remembering how the two of them had sat together here when he declared how magnificent he thought she was, that she could do no wrong in his eyes. She rocked herself gently trying to quiet sobs wracking her breast. The will to move came slowly.

She sat down in the parlour and poured herself another finger of brandy. Her eyes instinctively strayed to the chaise longue that she had been resting on when he had come running in to check on her during her illness. No! Why was she doing this to herself? Tormenting herself with thoughts of him. It seemed she couldn't even escape him in her own sanctuary – her home. The decision was made in haste and not given another thought as she all but ran out the house only to be confronted by the Candleford clock.

That blasted clock! She muttered under her breath, stumbling backwards in the dark. It was under its ticking face that she had declared herself to be his. That bastion of love that he had built especially for her. She covered her face in her hands as if that would shut the memory out. She scurried away and stumbled down the road.

A few metres on, her foot caught on something, sending her sprawling to the ground. She felt a sharp pain in her palm as it was gashed open. Bewildered by this and lost for a moment she looked up only to be confronted with the lighted sign of the Golden Lion Hotel with her father's silver thruppence sparkling in the candlelight. It couldn't be! she thought. This was the same place that she had fallen from the bicycle and into his arms. No! it couldn't be!

She was suddenly flooded with everything......

His touch,

His gaze,

His scent,

His kiss,

His love…

She wanted to get out of there before the last of her sanity was shredded into mere nothingness.

Love had never hurt so much…even her beloved Timothy hadn't hurt this much! She experienced a moment's anger, at Sir Timothy's seemingly lackadaisical love, which gave her strength to get back on her feet and ignore the physical pain she felt from her fall.

After passing the Golden Lion she felt a cool breeze ruffle her now loose curls. She knew she was out of Candleford now. She turned her head to the breeze and walked to the orchard nearby knowing the night would soon be over and the coming morning would bring far more pain than this night. She managed to reach the edge of the orchard before collapsing with a sob against one of the broad, strong trunks. She wrapped her arm around the tree trunk, feeling the sky lightening through her closed lids.

Her mind was exhausted and her body ached…that chilliness had not been soothed. Her sobs became more frequent as her tears flowed more freely now that she was free of the restraints of Candleford. She wasn't sure if she was imagining the footsteps but suddenly she was flooded with sensations of him again.

A strong arm closed around her waist and warm lips were tenderly kissing the back of her neck. She felt a delicious tingle of warmth and happiness course through her as she sank tiredly back into the haven of the warm embrace.

"Sweet nothings." She said wearily, scared to open her eyes in case this was just a dream but not sure if she wanted it to be reality either.

"No Dorcas, no my love." came the soft reply, "I love you too much to see you in such pain. I cannot bear it Dorcas." There was a change in tone as the voice became more pleading "Forgive me, my darling. It was wrong, I was wrong. I can bear anything but your anger. I love you Dorcas, it is you, it has always been you. I am sorry for the pain, I cannot bear to know that it is I who make you suffer so. Dorcas? Dorcas?"

He turned her around gently in his arms so that he could see her. She opened her eyes and gave him a smile; that mischievous smile that had captured his heart the first time.

She saw all the truths she had ever needed to see in James Dowland's green eyes in that instant. "I love you James, with all my heart. I don't know if I can bear to live like this. It hurts!" she cried pressing his hand against her heart, "It hurts so much."

"Forgive me my love, forgive me." He whispered, his own eyes welling with tears as he felt her tears dripping onto his hands. He pressed her hands against his breast "It is killing me Dorcas, it is killing me." He lowered them both gently onto the ground cradling her in his arms like a child.

"Hold me James," she whispered closing her eyes again as his lips brushed against hers. She opened her eyes and held his tired, loving gaze as he gently attended to her wounds on the outside and the inside. Their hands remained entwined, each trying to soothe the other.

The dew was forming and a chill settled the early morning but neither Miss Lane nor Mr Dowland felt the iciness that had consumed them in the night, now that they had made their way back to the place where each rightfully belonged; in the arms of each other.

- END -


End file.
